


A Domestic Disturbance

by concupiscence66



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Community: queer_fest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concupiscence66/pseuds/concupiscence66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Agatha wants Bertie to dismiss Jeeves at once but can't quite bring herself to say why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Domestic Disturbance

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bertie Wooster/Reginald Jeeves, Bertie is dejected when his attentions are rebuffed by Jeeves... but Jeeves is both gay and interested; he merely refuses to endanger his beloved employer with such a risky endeavor.  
> Warnings: I butcher the beautiful writing style of the originals and because I was writing until the last second, it is un-betaed.  
> Author's Notes: I based the writing style on the Wodehouse books and though I see Fry & Laurie in my head when I think of Jeeves and Wooster, it isn't specifically based on the show.  
> Disclaimer: These characters are the creation of the magnificent P.G. Wodehouse and I am only borrowing them with love

It was a joyful morning. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the flowers were opening their tender faces to the sun and whatnot, it was the kind of morning that makes a fellow happy to be alive don't you know. There wasn't so much as a dark cloud in the sky to act as a harbinger of the dreadful news about to befall your kindly narrator.

I had just opened my eyes to greet the coming day and had my first yawn when Jeeves came shimmering in with breakfast and a telegram.

Now it's always possible that a telegram arriving first thing in the morning contains good news, an invitation to a party or word you've just inherited a bit of the good stuff, but smart money is on Bad News.

This, dear reader, was no exception. It was a telegram from my Aunt Agatha announcing she would be joining me for lunch that very afternoon. I imagine there are, somewhere in the world, aunts who would feel inclined to give a nephew warning before dropping in to strap on the feedbag but such aunts do not exist in the world of Bertram Wooster.

"Aunt Agatha shall be joining us for lunch this afternoon. I'm sorry to say, Jeeves, the young master has lost his appetite entirely," but as I prepared to push away the old breakfast tray, Jeeves lifted the cover to reveal this morning's repast.

"I anticipated as much, sir. Therefore I prepared a breakfast of dry toast and tepid tea to sooth the nerves."

That's the thing about Jeeves. While the rest of us plod through life, he runs ten steps ahead and gets the lay of the land. Is it any wonder I long ago gave up trying to run my own life and put myself in his capable hands?

Aunt Agatha arrived at the strike of one as promised by her telegram. No sooner had she darkened my doorstep than she was sending Jeeves away on some bally errand. Aunt Agatha takes a rather old-fashioned view towards the hired help. The fact that Jeeves is without peer in the category of braininess does not impress the old gal. She feels Jeeves is too much in the way of familiar with the family affairs. She's quite the opposite of my Aunt Dahlia who often relies on Jeeves' fish-infused brain when she's in a pinch. That's the difference between Aunt Agatha and Aunt Dahlia. While they both feel it is their right and duty to send this innocent soul on treacherous errands and to make my life as complicated as possible, Aunt Dahlia always manages to remain a pip about the whole thing.

I knew things were about to get rum when Aunt Agatha seemed at a loss for words over sandwiches. I have never known one of my aunts to be silent for more than the time required to chew and swallow a bit of food. We talked a bit about the weather and the sandwiches (very tasty, indeed) for three quarters of an hour. My dread was building with each passing minute knowing that whatever Aunt Agatha was keeping under her hat must be a doozey.

I was not wrong.

"Bertram... Bertie," Aunt Agatha's kindly tone was alarming. I imagined I was in the way of being sent off to the chopping block.

"Yes, Aunt Agatha?"

"I've heard some... disturbing... information regarding your man, Jeeves."

I had been expecting this for a while now. It is well-known that Jeeves is a valet without peer and his services do not come cheap. While I was lucky enough to inherit more of the good stuff than I could possibly spend, I am not surprised that some of Jeeves' former employers ended up on the wrong side of the law. I wouldn't hesitate to turn to a life of crime in order to pay Jeeves' salary. My aunts have given me plenty of practice trespassing and burgling houses over the years, I imagine I could make a real go of it.

"To be fair, we can't hold Jeeves responsible for what others get up to with regards to the laws of the land and all that."

Aunt Agatha doesn't have much in the way of color in her face, being an indoorsy type, but she turned even paler at my words. I could tell I had gotten the wrong end of the stick and after a little hemming and hawing and general stammering, I wisely fell silent.

"So you've heard about his... associations?"

I've never pretended to be the brainiest of coves but even I have enough gray matter to know I had stumbled into treacherous waters and opted to remain silent.

"Bertie..." Aunt Agatha's mouth opened and closed in the manner of a landed fish for a while before she continued, "It's unnatural. It's unnatural and it's illegal and it's shameful and I urge you to dismiss him at once lest anyone think that you share his... proclivities."

I don't know what Jeeves gets up to in his spare time other than hanging about at the Junior Ganymede Club or reading the last Spinoza thriller but I've never imagined him to be the kind to get up to unsavory activities. I wasn't sure where Aunt Agatha was headed with her convoluted warning but I could tell unsavory activities figured heavily. Against my better judgment, I asked what "proclivities" were in question.

Her answer became clear enough though her ability to articulate her meaning remained unchanged. Eventually, if a person stammers long enough, you can assume said person is discussing Douglas' "love that dare not speak its name". One wonders if the love would speak its name if it had a nicer name. I think I shouldn't speak my name if it fell in the category of "naughty language".

I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. My aunt seemed to take this as a sign I was in shock and was nearly doting in her manner. Admittedly, I was surprised by the idea of Jeeves being involved in such entanglements. I only recently learned he has a first name. I hope I don't seem callous in my lack of knowledge about my constant companion of several years. Jeeves has a way about him, a manner of disappearing into his duties, that makes it easy to forget he has the same trials and tribulations as any other man.

When Jeeves made his return, announcing his presence with a gentle cough, Aunt Agatha legged it out of my flat directly. She only paused to look at Jeeves with a cold stare that would have brought a lesser man to his knees but, as I've said before, Jeeves is look-proof. He held Aunt Agatha's gaze with his head held high and not a flutter of emotion upon his face. I'll say it again, Jeeves has a certain way about him.

I won't pretend to be shocked by my Aunt's allegations. I went away to school after all. There's no activity terrorizing the mind of my aunt in which your's truly hasn't already engaged. I may be falling in the preux chevalier category but the fact is, these activities are part of becoming preux. One learns to be discrete and to alleviate the tensions that arise between a man and his intended before the ring is upon the finger.

Of course, these are the activities of boyhood and suddenly become perverse when one reaches manhood. I've never wrapped the old bean around the logic but I have always accepted the fact as a part of life.

Now I was rethinking the logic. I've never been any good at describing the physical appearance of the people who pass in and out of my daily life. I wish I could tell you that Jeeves' hair is the same shade of brown as some other thing you've likely seen, thereby helping you to create a vivid image in your mind's eye, but such facility of language has always eluded yours truly. Jeeves has dark hair the color of Jeeves' hair and it never moves. There is never a hint about his person to indicate he is subject to weather, stress or illness. His hair is as placid as his face. It's a kind face, a handsome face, with eyes that are gentle and invite trust. While Jeeves' face remains eternally in a look of calm respectfulness, his eyes give subtle hints to the man beneath. His eyes can sparkle with humor or glitter with anger and while Jeeves is look-proof, no one is immune to a look from Jeeves. What I'm trying to say is that while his manner indicates one should keep one's distance, his eyes sometimes hint that closing ground would not be such a bad idea.

It was a lot to think about. Normally, I would lay my problems at Jeeves' feet and offer him a tasty bit of fish so he could work it all out for me. Naturally, as he played a central role in my confusion, I would have to seek assistance elsewhere.

"I'm off to the Drones', Jeeves. I won't be needing supper. Take the evening off and pal around at the Junior Ganymede or curl up with a good book."

"Thank you, sir, I think I shall spend the evening with an improving book."

His tone was even and respectful, his face was a blank slate but there was something in his eyes. Sadly, I am not much in the way of braininess and whatever his eyes her saying to me, I hadn't the ability to comprehend.

 

There's nothing like an evening at the Drones to clear the head. Bingo, Barmy and I came up with an exciting new card game and played for several hours. Eventually we came to realize we hadn't quite sorted out how one would win the game and we had all partaken slightly too much in the way of liquid refreshment to come up with a solution in the eleventh hour. We eventually called it a draw and staggered home to our respective domiciles. I generally live a life of moderation, two-cocktail Wooster I am sometimes called, but the occasional indulgence is good for the spirit.

I was in excellent spirits as I let myself into my flat and rapped loudly on Jeeves' door. Jeeves responded immediately as always, the chap never seems to sleep. On the rare occasion that I disrupt Jeeves when he has retired for the evening, I normally bark my order through the door and toddle off while he puts on the uniform both literally and figuratively, but today I stood outside the door and waited. Jeeves, being the brainy cove, immediately noticed something was amiss and came to the door in his dressing gown.

"Sir?"

It was passing strange to see Jeeves in a dressing gown. The few times I've encountered Jeeves off the clock, he has always been dressed to the nines. It is well-established that Jeeves has strong opinions on the subject of the sartorial. Somehow I had imagined he slept in a dark suit that never wrinkled. I don't mean to give the impression he looked rumpled or even at ease. He looked like Jeeves in a dressing gown.

I hadn't thought past this point in the conversation and had no idea what to say. While I'm not much in the way of being articulate, words generally come springing from the lips unbidden and yet no words were forthcoming. With the absence of words and Jeeves being so close and my state of inebriation, I decided it was time to become a man of action. If it were done, when 'tis done, better t'were done post haste before you have too much time to think about it. His lips were soft and there was a hint of stubble upon his cheek. He felt and tasted like a man and it was lovely but all too brief. His face was as still as a secluded pond, only his eyes suggesting there may be activity swirling beneath the surface. He asked what he could do for me but he managed to make it clear that what I really wanted was not an option. Instead, he helped me into my own nightwear and bid me pleasant dreams.

 

The next morning we continued as always without a word on the subject. Aunt Agatha made several more attempts to speak to me on the matter of Jeeves but, due to her inability to speak directly on the matter, I was able to maintain a facade of perplexity. Then Aunt Dahlia announced she would be descending upon my domicile and I knew the jig was up. Aunt Dahlia would have no such compunction about speaking her mind. It isn't often my aunts join forces but when they do, they are a formidable opponent and Bertram is left without a chance.

Rather than dismiss Jeeves upon her arrival, Aunt Dahlia told me to make myself scarce so she could have a word with my valet. I hesitated but Jeeves seemed unconcerned. I took my lunch at the club alone and worried. I have described my feelings for Jeeves in the past as those of a nephew for a favored uncle. While this isn't an accurate description of my affection for the man, it's as close as I've been able to come within the boundaries of polite society if you know what I mean. Without knowing of Jeeves' proclivities, I already felt a certain stirring coupled with my deep admiration and affection. It isn't proper but he is my dearest friend and most trusted adviser. I would never speak of these feelings to Jeeves, he would be horrified. As I said, he has a way of disappearing into his role as a gentleman's personal gentleman and he resists any attempt at informality. Like his view on neck wear, Jeeves is very conservative in his stance with regards to social standing.

When I returned home, I found Jeeves sitting in my chair. Seeing Jeeves sitting was a bit of a shock though he immediately leaped to his feet when I entered the room. I was relieved to see the conversation appeared to have remained civil and calm; Aunt Dahlia hadn't tried to chuck Jeeves' out on his ear or anything of the sort. Although the air in the room held no hostility, they must have been deep in conversation indeed if Jeeves failed to hear me enter the room.

"I won't fire Jeeves," I announced as though someone had asked.

"Sir, if I may..."

"We'll move to America."

"It won't matter," Aunt Dahlia said with a sorrowful tone.

"Then France. They don't care in Paris."

"Sir, if I may..."

"No, you mayn't!"

Aunt Dahlia asked Jeeves to disappear and he shimmered into nothingness, his feet never making a sound.

"I can't, Aunt Dahlia. I'm sorry if it causes a problem for you or anyone else in the family but I can't..."

"Bertie," I've never seen the old gal so melancholy, "I knew Oscar Wilde. I know that terrible Alfred Douglas... Believe me, I have all the faith in the world in Jeeves' discretion and intelligence but all it takes is an allegation..."

"I don't care."

"I do, Bertie, and so does Jeeves," Aunt Dahlia began to tear up at this point and I have to admit I was undone. I hadn't seen her shed a tear since my father's funeral. "When the stories came out about Oscar... It isn't just about the law. Look at how people turned their backs, how they continue to talk... I can't see that happen to you. Those who hold fast in their devotion will be subject to the same judgment and ostracized. You know you won't be able to tolerate others falling on their swords for you, Bertie. Imagine your Aunt Agatha living her life as a social pariah."

It was a surprise to me that Aunt Agatha fell among the 'devoted' crowd with regards to me, I was touched. I thought of fellows like Barmy, Chuffy and Stinker Pinker who would never turn their backs on yours truly. For every passing chum who might feed me to the lions, I know there are chaps who would never deny a friend no matter how cruelly their fidelity might be rewarded.

I fell into my chair, too exhausted to stand for another moment. The weight of the world seemed to fall on my shoulders and, though I mix my metaphors, I was adrift.

Aunt Dahlia wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Someone has already betrayed Jeeves. He has made every effort to be discreet and still there's scuttlebutt. I don't know what to say, Bertie. It isn't right and it isn't fair but you are both in danger. The wise thing to do would be to part ways. Jeeves agrees with me. He cares for you very much."

We sat in silence for a while before Aunt Dahlia took her leave. She kissed me on the cheek as she left and said, "Whatever you decide to do, whatever may occur, you will always be welcomed in my home."

Before closing the door, Aunt Dahlia spoke loudly, "The same goes for Jeeves."

The message was clear and it both warmed and broke my heart. Aunt Dahlia would always be in my corner to use the sporting parlance and she would not turn her back on Jeeves. I could no longer pretend that my decisions affected only myself. If I found myself under fire, my family and friends would be hit by the ensuing shrapnel.

I went to the kitchen and pulled Jeeves into a firm embrace. He remained still in my arms and only said, "Sir?"

"We have to be so careful. There can't be anyone else."

"Sir?"

"Anyone else might talk but I never will. I'll never let you down. I know I'm not much of a prize as a life mate but I can hold my tongue."

"Sir, I've never questioned your integrity. I cannot allow you to risk your station, your family, your freedom..."

I made some confessions at this point that I won't repeat here. I whispered them in his ear. I used no names so as to incriminate no one but myself but I made it clear that I was both experienced with this particular brand of carnality and capable of discretion. It was something to see Jeeves' face register shock. For all his insight into the psychology of the individual, he had bought into the Wooster persona as much as the next bloke. I won't pretend to be a man of many layers but I am a man of the world. I've played the innocent so long, the role has become a second skin.

This time when I kissed Jeeves, he kissed me back. It wasn't long before I was again being lectured on proper behavior and the seriousness of our endeavor but, for a few minutes, he was as lost in the moment as I and it was delightful.


End file.
